


Don’t Ride a Horse.

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Season 6 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared knows JUST what he wants Sam to wear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Ride a Horse.

_**Don't Ride a Horse - 1 of 1**_  
 **Title:** Don’t Ride a Horse.  
 **Author:** [](http://annie46.livejournal.com/profile)[**annie46**](http://annie46.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Jensen/Jared  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Summary:** Jared knows JUST what he wants Sam to wear.  
 **Warnings** Warnings for Season 6 - Episode 18

 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Jared or Jensen or anyone else in this story, they own themselves and none of this is true or meant to hurt.

Jared is excited about doing the ‘cowboy’ episode.

He has always had a bit of thing about cowboys; nothing gay of course; just a simple admiration for the olden days, simple days when men were men and they rode together as comrades, all of them against the world.

He knows exactly what he wants to wear or rather what he wants Sam to wear. He wants soft leather trousers, clinging to hip and thigh, he wants boots that jangle with the shiny metal of spurs and he wants a big leather belt with a huge Texan buckle. He lays out the ideas and the producer smiles indulgently and shakes his head.

“Come on, Jared, Sam would never dress like that.”

And he is right of course, Sam would never wear such things. Instead Sam gets to wear a white shirt and a black felt hat and is the most restrained cowboy in the history of the West. Jensen watches Jared as he sinks into Sam and he shakes his head in some sympathy, knowing that this wasn’t exactly what Jared wanted but is as true to Sam as it can possibly be.

****

A few months later and he is on hiatus waiting to see if there is going to be a Season 7 and entertaining the fans in Italy. Gen loves it here; there are fashion houses to die for, designer shoes and bags that cost a fortune and shops hidden down tiny back streets that sell all sorts of wonderful but expensive things. Jared visits one such shop and the photographers take shots of him in linen shirts and thick jumpers, watch him pull cotton t-shirts over his head and tie up brown leather loafers. At the back of the shop he finds something that he doesn’t want the photographers or the fans to see but he wants, God how he wants, to buy. He whispers something to the manager who smiles and places the sacred object in a brown paper bag. Jared clutches the bag against his chest and grins excitedly, thinking on what he has bought and wondering when he will get to wear them.

****

England and Gen is busy elsewhere; it is late or maybe early – he never has gotten used to jet lag and time differences and he is alone in his room waiting for the morning and the photos and the time he can spend with Jensen. He sighs and lies down on the bed. He misses being single sometimes, misses the times when they went to conventions together, flew on the same planes, shared rooms sometimes. He wishes for those days again, bitter sweet and inevitable.

They are married men now and those days are long gone.

He can’t sleep so he gets the paper bag out of the small wardrobe and reaches in. He pulls out the soft leather trousers, holds them for a moment feeling how smooth they are and he pulls off his old sweat pants so that he is naked. He is half hard before he even has one leg inside the leather and he breathes in the sinful scent, his body shaking as he stands in front of the mirror and looks into the shiny surface.

He doesn’t look much like a cowboy but it is half way to what he wanted that day; his chest is bare and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his chest heaving as he breathes heavy, an obvious bulge in the crotch of the trousers, the toffee covered leather hugging his thighs and clinging to his calves. He rubs a hand through his hair and wishes he had that felt hat, and the shiny Texas buckle. He laughs at his own foolishness and is so involved in his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear the door open, doesn’t see anyone enter. He closes his eyes for a moment and almost jumps out of his skin when he feels strong arms encircle him, the brush of lips against his throat, his pulse point throbbing.

He doesn’t speak and he couldn’t say a word even if he did; the trousers feel almost uncomfortably tight and he lets his hips buck up just a little so that the person who is holding him can see how aroused he is.

“Hey cowboy,” Jensen’s voice low and slurry, the denim of his shirt rough against Jared’s bare skin. “Looking good.”

Jared opens his eyes then and sees Jensen in the mirror, holding him, hands straying to the bulge in his trousers, the scent of leather mixing with the strong smell of arousal.

“We shouldn’t,” he says but he is already pressing into Jensen’s grasp, already bucking like a lively bronco, wanting to be ridden, wanting to be tamed.

He is slammed onto the floor; the slap of his skin against the wood almost obscene. Hands that are gentle but eager pull down his zipper and thrust inside; Jensen laughs then and presses a sinful kiss against his dry mouth, tongue licking its way inside. He pulls at Jensen’s shirt so that he can feel skin against skin. They are both sweating now and Jared is as hard as nails, Jensen’s fingers trapped beneath the sticky softness of leather, Jensen’s teeth buried in his throat, Jensen’s breathing hard in his ears.

He comes hard and Jensen soothes him, settles him, strokes him through it. The trousers are ruined, covered in salty fluid, patches of dampness and sweat on the groin and thigh. Jensen is hard against his hip, rubbing himself like a cat, little breathes hot in his ear. When Jensen reaches his release it is with a whimper and he kisses Jared again, whispers into his ear.

Afterwards he strips the trousers from his body and hides them in the paper bag again. Jensen watches him through half open eyes, dozy and sated, a smile on his face that is both satisfied and predatory.

“You think we might find you a belt buckle and hat next time?” He asks. “Because this cowboy is in a mood to do some riding!”

End


End file.
